


Lucifer's Bloodline Lives On

by DLManoir



Series: Lucifer's Bloodline Lives On [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Choking, Dubious Consent, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Partial Mind Control, Physical Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sounding, partial bestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLManoir/pseuds/DLManoir
Summary: Rowan, the AntiChrist, visits Aamon, a Marquis of Hell who was tasked with his upbringing. Rowan is now grown, however, and his powers are coming through. It seems he's not content with his father's throne, though. His heavenly powers aren't enough to satisfy him, either. And so, he goes looking for more. More power. And Aamon plays directly into his hands.
Relationships: Aamon/Rowan
Series: Lucifer's Bloodline Lives On [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873540
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Lucifer's Bloodline Lives On

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is where this journey starts. I've been putting this off for what feels like forever, but I think now might just be a good time.
> 
> Of course, please mind the tags!

There he was, Hell’s little Antichrist. The product of a fallen angel and a human seedbed, an abomination capable of wielding Holy power. All grown up with full-fledged wings of pure white and gold feathers, and little horns of his own. The skin of his hands and forearms was golden, untainted by malice, and yet he strode through the many circles of Hell with all the confidence of a high-ranking demon. Every step was purposeful, sophisticated and graceful, his chin held high, back straight and shoulders pushed back, and his stare sharp, unwavering.

_Rowan. Lucifer’s son. The bridge connecting Heaven and Hell._

He descended upon Aamon’s throne with the wings on his back wrapped around his person, the appendages so big that he could conceal himself completely within them. And when he stood before the powerful Marquis that, for so long, had tortured and belittled him, he splayed his wings out to their furthest length, displaying the feathers with pride.

However tempting it might have been for Rowan to cover his body, he presented himself in all his glorious shame. _Naked. Bare._ With every golden marking he had recently acquired for the demon to admire. He held his arms out, and a smug grin tugged at his lips.

Rowan offered himself as some sort of delicacy, as though the sight of him should provide the demon with a feast.

 _A feast. Yes._ Once upon a time, but Aamon had grown weary of the flavour that was Lucifer’s son. He wasn’t cut out to babysit the likes of such an impudent child who so readily infested the spaces which he knew wouldn’t welcome him. Rowan truly sought after his own misery by coming here. And for that, Aamon did nothing to hide his dull contempt for the bold act.

“Look at you,” Rowan scoffed. “You’ve got that morose look despite that grand throne you sit on.”

The demon was quiet in his seat, his chin leaning on his fist and his legs sprawled. He was covered in a suit of tar, as always, covering him from the neck down. It stuck close to the skin to fit him perfectly, clinging to his curves, his shape, and left little to the imagination.

“Have you forgotten your manners, Aamon?” Rowan continued to prance on this tip of his toes. He moved with all the grace of a proper angel. And the arrogance of one too! “It’s polite to greet your guests,” he reminded scornfully when he came up behind the demon’s throne. He was bold enough to reach around and touch Aamon’s cheek, a tentative poke meant to pry at his patience, proving somewhat effective in that it earned him a low growl.

Looking at the demon, it was hard to gauge Aamon’s tolerance level. Those eyes of his offered no insight into his thoughts. They were dark voids of that shimmered with stardust, swirling glitter contained within black smoke, like two little galaxies. There was no life in his eyes, and yet they were not devoid of creation.

“I come all this way to see you and all you give me is a little growl? You can’t even bare your teeth?” Rowan teased with feigned disappointment.

“You’ve come all this way to flaunt before me… Or are you just so lonely that you willingly throw yourself at whatever creature might play with you now?”

“Oh!” Rowan gasped, “It talks!” He stepped forth. He kept a brightness in his eyes he knew would grate at the demon’s temper. His features retained some of those boyish traits that made him look so innocent and genuine still. He knew of how Aamon had loved to see him cry per the past, and yet he grinned like a cat. There was quite a bit of pride to him.

He captured the demon’s face, and when this one only gave a half-hearted attempt to jerk out of his grasp, Rowan felt audacity spurred even further. He lifted himself into the throne, straddling over Aamon’s lap, raised on his knees, so that he could force the demon to look up at him. It was a complete reversal of power he hoped would humiliate Aamon.

“For a moment, I thought you were a statue. What a shame that would’ve been… Although, a rock hard cock could be enticing.”

“Why are you here, Rowan?” Aamon asked. His patience was wearing thin.

“You already know. I want someone to play with me. Fuck me, Aamon.”

 _Straight to the point._ Rowan had been well-trained. Perhaps too much so.

“Why don’t you find yourself someone who’d be willing to play with some leftover cum slut?” Aamon snarled, his teeth peeking past those thin lips.

“Because,” Rowan started, his tone gleeful. He snapped a hand to the demon’s throat, high up at the junction of his head and neck. He squeezed and pushed Aamon back until he choked a gurgle when he tried to swallow. “I want _your_ cock.”

Aamon’s jaws clenched, teeth grinding together. His chest puffed up and a deep rumbling sounded from him. He didn’t move, though. In fact, his lips curved at the edges of his mouth, a sadistic smile that would be all too familiar to Rowan.

“You don’t command me here, _Little Bird._ ” Despite the pressure on his throat, he gave Rowan a chuckle.

“On the contrary— _ngh!_ ”

Rowan’s nerve instantly vanished when his mouth froze. His lungs collapsed. His vision was gradually engulfed by a black film, a dark filter. _Another of Aamon’s cheap tricks._ He wouldn’t let it take over! No. He was grown, more powerful. Nevertheless, fighting off the demon’s influence, against years of experience Aamon wielded against him, proved a much harder feat.

 _“Pathetic Little Bird,”_ Aamon’s words were punctuated with cutting mockery, spoken slowly so that each word, each syllable would seep under Rowan’s skin. “You might have your wings, and your powers are finally showing through, but you’re nothing but a little boy merely trudging in his father’s footsteps. You can’t even summon the power to stand your ground against one of Lucifer’s lackeys. _Useless, little boy._ ”

Rowan’s mouth hung open around those last words he had managed to utter before Aamon hijacked his body. He couldn’t make the slightest sound. His lungs wouldn’t fill. And before he knew it, the demon’s words were nothing but dim buzzing in his ears as he desperately clung to his consciousness.

 _“Annoying, pitiful insect that only knows how to make unnecessary noise,”_ Aamon said.

Rowan had to fight this, but his vision was darkening faster than he had anticipated. He had already lost part of his body to the demon. His vision was now no more than a pinhole, and he couldn’t will himself to look down. Nonetheless, he knew his hips moved of their own accord—his body obeyed Aamon’s will. The sound of a hot sizzle preceding the gentle burn that came to the head of his cock told him so. Rowan knew this sensation, the heat of the suit of tar that covered the demon’s body, as well as the viscosity of the substance as it swallowed his cock. It seeped into him and pried his urethra open, filling him with that same feeling of humiliation and helplessness that had scorched his soul.

 _Good Heaven, how he had missed this!_ But this wasn’t what Rowan had come here for. He had other intentions.

“I pity the gutter-born whore who died giving birth to such a useless, depraved harlot,” Aamon’s voice was a piercing hiss that morphed into a sinister laugh.

Rowan’s golden accents, the markings on his arms and feathers, began to grow tainted. The darkness crawled from his fingers, covering his entire hands, and moved up his forearms. He snapped through the demon’s haze with a gut-wrenching gasp instantly catching in his lungs. He leaned his weight into his grip over Aamon’s throat, which only seemed to amuse him further. Rowan’s features twisted with rage, fury, cold-blood.

“You’re going to bow to me!” he said, his voice still hoarse and raspy.

Aamon choked on his answer. “I bow only to Lucifer.”

“You _will_ bow to me, Aamon!”

The glee that Rowan had showed off upon his arrival had dissipated. His cat-like grin was replaced with a deep scowl, and his chest heaved as he worked to recuperate from the lack of air. His hand tightened around the demon’s neck to silence every word he tried to speak.

Still, Aamon laughed at this meager display of power. He ridiculed Rowan, goaded him even! The demon had no need for words to do that. All he needed was to flash a glint of sparkling white fangs. Even when he found he couldn’t move his hands or legs, or when his cock hardened, his own tricks turned against him— _Rowan learned fast!—_ he appeared insouciant. After all, Aamon wasn't so reliant on breathing as Rowan was, and his body had been thoroughly broken by Lucifer himself in the past. What was there to be done to a hellish creature that had already suffered unimaginable torture?

“You’re going to do what I command you to,” Rowan hissed through clenched teeth, “And I command you now! Fuck me!”

_Very well, Little Bird…_

Rowan instinctively fled from the demon’s cock when he felt the head grind against the cleft of his ass. Aamon bucked his hips, not as a means to obey him, but rather to spur him on. He wouldn’t be played for a fool when he knew the demon to be quite an adept trickster. He lowered himself into Aamon’s lap, and shuddered when he ground against the demon’s cock. It was thick just as Rowan remembered it. He guided himself over the fat head, his ass already loosened and ready, only for the cock to jerk away from its mark. It was Aamon’s doing! Rowan came prepared, his intentions clear from the very beginning, but the demon toyed with him.

“You could never put it in yourself,” Aamon taunted him, “You’re too my of a pussy.”

He should have known Aamon wouldn’t make it easy for him. When had he ever made anything easy? He should use his hands to ease himself over the demon’s cock, he supposed, but he risked losing control in doing so.

_Was Rowan truly in control, though?_

“Go on, Little Bird. Fuck yourself on my cock, or do you need me to teach you how?” Aamon taunted him again. The demon lifted his hips until his cock rubbed up Rowan’s crack. He gasped when the head finally slipped inside of him, but his eagerness to take the whole thing had him coming down too fast. Aamon’s chest lurched forward, claws digging into the throne’s armrests, when his cock bent painfully before slipping out. A deep rumble resonated from his chest.

“You can’t do anything right.”

“Then you do it, Aamon!” Rowan yelled.

Aamon laughed. “Do it yourself, boy. I’m no longer responsible for wiping your ass. What good would that rock hard cock do you if you can’t even fuck yourself on it? You really need someone to do everything for you.”

Rowan lifted himself up, grabbing the demon’s cheeks roughly, forcing Aamon to look up at him. The feathers of his vibrated with irritation. This carefully constructed chamber of Aamon’s creation trembled like an image overtaken by blurring static. He would make the demon’s world crumble!

“No fucking wonder Lucifer threw you away! If you won’t fuck me, then call up that beast!”

The surge that invaded Aamon’s mind then was undeniable. _The beast._ Yes, the one that gladly filled whatever hole it could fuck. It pried at his mind, anxious to answer Rowan’s call, clawing and roaring in the recesses of his consciousness.

The beast broke through Rowan’s spell. _“Gggrraaaahhh!!”_ Aamon’s claws sank into Rowan’s hips and violently pulled him down over his cock, without warning, and in one swift motion, until he bottomed out. This knocked the air out of Rowan who, to his delight, but also to his regret, wasn’t given a moment of reprieve as the beast handled him with unrelenting savagery.

Now under the beast’s influence, Aamon’s cock pounded into Rowan’s ass. The demon lunged forward and sank his serrated canines into Rowan’s shoulder. He bit him many times, over and over again, piercing his flesh until the taste of fresh, warm blood imbued with power washed over his tongue. He shuddered. The suit of tar that covered the demon shifted, the consistency changing from leathery to furry. HIs claws extended, and a makeshift tail whipped awkwardly between him and the throne’s backrest. Aamon’s cock thickened.

Dread struck Rowan at the thought of actually being confronted with the beast in its purest form. _No! Not that again!_ But it was already too late. He had called it out.

Rowan's body was stiff in the demon’s still-humanoid grasp. Every thrust sunk deep into him, hammering at his guts, banishing any coherent thought. And yet, he firmly clung to the demon’s shoulders when he leaned forward, fucking Rowan even deeper, harder. He couldn’t think when the beast treated him as though he were nothing more than a cocksleeve to be used and brutalized until he broke. He couldn’t even control the sounds that came out of him anymore. His voice was a mix between yelps of pain and salacious moans.

_“Uuuuhuuhhh! A-Aamon… Mnghaaah!”_

It wasn’t long until Rowan spilled himself onto his stomach. Thick ropes of cum covered him, sticking between the two of them. And still, Aamon fucking him, gnawed at his shoulders, and silence his hips with a bruising grip and sharp claws.

_“Aaaahh… Aamon!”_

Aamon had lost any internal battle being held against the beast and his cock reflected this shift in his consciousness as ridges formed around the thick cock pumping into Rowan. They rubbed his insides, ridding him of all shame, and he arched his back to bear down on every upwards thrust. Each sensation was a new lick of pain to him, his senses lashed time and again with electrical shocks.

_O-oooh, my G-God… Yes! Keep f… f-fucking me…!”_

Rowan could hear it, the beast, grunting and groaning like an animal, Aamon’s disembodied voice roaring the beast’s impending orgasm. He felt it too, with the swelling knot of the cock. It stretched his hole with every thrust, dragging heavily over his prostate while the head jabbed into him like a rock. He was breathless, mute, every sound that came out of him turned to a choked, stifled whimper. The demon rutted into him, his final trusts particularly powerful that the throne’s legs screeched over the floor. And finally, the knot locked them together.

Rowan's insides clamped down on the organ inside of him just as the demon instinctively tried to wrench it free, only to slam their bodies together. He threw his head back, lips parted around a silent scream. His body trembled and he dug his nail into Aamon’s back. And the demon clamped down on his shoulder, catching himself a mouthful of his lifeblood that the beast all too happily drank. The cock inside of Rowan spurted hot cum, painting his insides, staining the heavenly body of his stench until it was full to bursting with him.

Rowan hung off of Aamon. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted, reeling from his orgasm, the oversensitivity, and the pain that crashed into him.

“Aamon,” the name left his lips as a sob of relief, “My beautiful Lord… My demon with eyes of darkness and sparkling stars…”

The beast had been subdued for the time being, and Rowan was able to catch the demon’s lips. He received a fervent response, teeth clashing together, tongues invading and conquering. The taste of blood was still fresh on Aamon’s tongue, and he relished in the metallic flavour that spread between them. It was a sweet kiss, one unlike he would usually receive from the demon, if he ever did at all. _What a good dog._ But the beast was by no means tamed, nor would it ever be, he supposed.

The kiss was broken when the demon favoured the fresh blood that oozed from Rowan’s shoulder. He allowed Aamon to return to lapping at him while he jerked his hips, squeezing himself down on the organ to elicit a reaction from the demon.

“Ah,” Rowan sighed when Aamon finally got the hint and started undulating his hips. Their bodies rocked flush together, the movement jostling the organ inside of him, making it twitch against the walls and grind insistently over his bundle of sweet nerves. The constant pressure lit his loins with a thrumming pleasure that radiated through him. It was a comfortable sensation that was gentle and temperate, and prickled his skin with goosebumps. He was so full and warm inside…

“With your ability to warp reality and my father’s blood coursing through my veins, this child you’ll give me will accomplish the most amazing things. It won’t simply be a bridge, it’ll rule over both Heaven and Hell,” Rowan whispered lovingly.

The beast was slowly receding, giving Aamon’s consciousness the opportunity to recover. It still controlled him, however, as it was clearly not yet ready to return to its slumber. Not when there was still quite a bit for him to drink. Besides, they were knotted, meaning Aamon would have to suffer this closeness a while longer.

Rowan laughed softly through his nose. He brought a hand to the demon’s head, the ebony locks surprisingly soft between his fingers. He caressed him, rewarding him with gentle affection. Aamon didn’t need an explanation as to what had just happened. He understood Rowan’s skeevy plan, his entire strategy now clear to him. Rowan wasn’t bored, or lonesome. He sought after a higher power than his own, one he would only obtain through creation. They could both already feel it forming inside Rowan’s belly.

 _Clever trick._ His Little Bird wasn’t so little anymore. He was the mature and enthralling Antichrist Lucifer had hoped to father, and Aamon had made the mistake of underestimating him.

“Lucifer’s bloodline lives on,” he murmured into Aamon’s ear, his tone lacked with mockery. “And this child will be stronger than us all.”

Aamon had lived thousands of years, yet here he was, bested by some ungodly creature.

A mistake.

_His mistake…_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. Feel free to leave me a comment or follow me up on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DLManoir?s=09)!
> 
> Make sure you stay safe out there. Don't forget to eat, drink, wash your hands, and wear your masks. Try to get in touch with someone who makes you happy, and try to reach out to a friend who might be struggling. A problem shared is a problem halved.


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